


Mossy Clearings and Carved Jade

by madrastic



Series: 14 Day Quarantine [2]
Category: Original Work, Weak Constitution: Common Cat
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Crushes, First Time, Light Dom/sub, Loud Sex, M/M, Magic, Outdoor Sex, Pegging, Ritual Sex, Rough Kissing, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Magic, Shyness, Simultaneous Orgasm, Strap-Ons, Trans Male Character, bc of ~magic~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrastic/pseuds/madrastic
Summary: When Lies let Adamantine have the day to himself on account of paperwork, the last thing he expected was to be helping Dire with a ritual. Now, if only Adamantine knew what vivimancers did...Day 2: Praise Kink
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: 14 Day Quarantine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808296
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12
Collections: 14 Day Quarantine, Weak Constitution Extended Universe





	Mossy Clearings and Carved Jade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkward_Dragon/gifts).



> ty for Awkward_Dragon and Blue_Stars_Above for some help editing! <3~

Lies was tired. That much was plain to see. They hadn’t invited Adamantine over so much as he had let himself into their office, carrying an upsetting amount of coffee with Scathan in tow. The illusionist had run into the demon when he stopped by Miss Symphony’s café to pick up something to drink, but had ended up tagging along with him, doing his best to ignore any stranger who gave an odd look to the pair.

It  _ was _ unusual, a local having a demon instead of a familiar, Adamantine had to admit. Add on that Adamantine was an illusion-soon-to-be-necromantic mage, it was odd that he had any sort of casting aid at all. Scathan didn’t seem to care about the stares, though, tucking into what looked to be an inordinate number of pastries and an iced coffee as he walked.

That Lies let Scathan be so liberal with money was a shock, Adamantine knew that he wouldn’t trust his familiar to do so, especially not without some form of identification marking that familiar as belonging to someone. He had spent a good portion on himself, for crying out loud, how could Lies just let him have a carte blanche to get all the pastries he could eat? Clearly, Scathan was unable to manage his own intake if he thought this was at all appropriate, especially so informally dressed.

It was like he was stepping into the backyard—all Scathan had on him to denote that he belonged to someone were his papers, nothing big and obvious like a collar. His clothes were simple loose things, he had probably dug them out of Lies’s closet at some point and never returned them. Why they allowed their demon to walk around like that, Adamantine could never understand.

And yet, here Scathan was, walking into Lies’s office like he owned it. The necromancer didn’t bother to look up from their work, just frowning deeper at the piles of paper that surrounded them. It was paperwork season in the necromancy department, meaning Lies was in charge of filing their new grant proposal after Horatio had finally fallen apart. Needless to say, they were quite enthused about that, as seen by the hard line their face had set into. Dire sat on the floor beside them, whittling something out of a stick as if it were helping the necromancer, tapping his foot against the side of the desk in a rhythm only he heard.

“Hi Scath.” Lies sounded exhausted. This was what was going to be in store for Adamantine if he chose research, he supposed.

Scathan just hummed, placing the bag of goodies on the table, tapping his head gently against Lies’s. “They were out of peach turnovers, so I got a raspberry tart instead.”

The affection was accepted without a second thought. “Thanks.” Pale blue eyes flicked up. “Adamantine, pleasure. Why are you here?”

Trying to ignore the dryness in their tone, Adamantine kept himself cheery. “I ran into Scathan and thought he might like some company, how is your day going?”

“Busy. Too much to do and too little time to do it all.” They grit their teeth as Dire opened his mouth to speak. “Not to be rude, but can you two please just leave? I have the worst headache and I just need to get this proposal done before the day’s end. Please. I’m begging. Scathan, just go take a nap or something.”

With a nod, Scathan left his coffee on the desk and crossed over into the bedroom, leaving the door open as he settled in for a nap. Lies really was spoiling him, letting the demon sleep the day away in their bed. For what little Adamantine knew about demons, he knew well enough that letting familiars get away with things was not the brightest idea if one wanted an obedient, well-trained one.

Looking back on it, Adamantine had never even heard Lies raise their voice to Scathan, never punish him, even when he was acting out. Scathan was… not the most obedient thing and yet, all of Adamantine’s advice fell on deaf ears as Lies continued with what they were doing, giving an inch and letting their demon take a mile. One of these days, Scathan was going to be too disruptive, act out at the wrong time. At least Adamantine knew about some local training programs to bring familiars in line. Those should work on demons, too.

In the world outside Adamantine’s thoughts, Dire stood with a sigh, collecting his things without much complaint. He was dressed plainly, a loose brown shirt that had seen better days not so much hiding his form as simply concealing it for a later date. His pants had been cut off above the knee, old denim long faded and well loved. As always, he was barefoot, his hair a mess.

“Sure thing, Beck. Good luck and tell me how it goes?” His knuckles brushed at the side of the desk in lieu of Lies, extending comfort without touching them.

They nodded. “Of course. Sorry, I’m having a time of it today, I’ll be better in a couple days.”

“Take your time.” Adamantine could listen to Dire’s voice for years. “And actually sleep tonight, or I’m going to bother Scathan about it again.”

There was mirth in Lies’s eyes when they looked up, a tired grin twisting at the corner of their mouth as Scathan yelled out from the bed, voice tinged with a heavy Durish accent. “If he bothers me, I’m laying down on you and not getting up! I mean it this time!”

“See? Scathan agrees.” Dire crowed, hands on his hips.

It was all Adamantine could do to keep from laughing, trying to tamp down the smile on his face. As always, Dire was a character and it was hard not to feel affection for him, not to laugh at his jokes. He was eternally thankful that Lies had taken the time to introduce their intern to the rest of their friends and coworkers. Getting out of the illusion mages’ division and into less mainstream schools had been a blessing in disguise, letting Adamantine learn so much about other practices.

A calloused hand closed around his and Adamantine had a split second to force the blush off of his face as Dire tugged him out of the room.

“While you have fun with your paperwork, can I steal Adamantine for a ritual? You have him for the day anyway.” Dire tapped the schedule taped to Lies’s wall, crowded in by notes and to-do lists.

Today was, in fact, a day that they had Adamantine, not that it mattered much. Adamantine found himself coming in whether or not he was scheduled, set free on days that he was and called for days that he wasn’t. Much like their sleep schedule, Lies’s schedule was an unpredictable mess, but that seemed to be the case for most necromancers, squeezing in appointments and meetings around rituals and fits of inspiration in the middle of the day. It was hell on their sleep schedule.

“Be my guest. Adamantine, Annie’s doing a big ritual and she asked for the entire necromancy department in four days, do you want to come? She promised that there’s going to be snacks and drinks and spots to sleep over if need be.” Lies rested their sallow cheek on one hand, the bags under their eyes dark.

Genuine excitement thrummed through him. “I’d love to.”

This would be a wonderful way to learn more, all Adamantine had really seen were Lies’s rituals, small things that they did in the back of their office. To be able to see a ritual that required multiple people? It would be so fascinating—far more interesting than anything he was learning in his illusion classes. Nothing there was horribly exciting, not like the necromancers. They were like a family here.

Despite being an undergraduate student, the necromancy division, heads and all, had accepted Adamantine without a second glance. They had only asked him if he was sure about changing his field of study, and, upon his consent, stamped the paperwork that gave him a dual study program. It was more work than just one track, but it was more than worth it if Adamantine got the chance to see such interesting things firsthand.

He had looked into the academic sources on necromancy available to him, but had only found dry descriptions, nothing like the animated explanations given to him by the graduate students whether he asked or not, or the dynamic casting he had witnessed Lies do, power readily drawn from their mana. It would be quite a valuable skill to learn, controlling one’s mana enough to fuel another life.

Lies was saying something, likely something important, but there were stars in Adamantine’s eyes. “—and if you need help getting to that address, I promised Annie that I’d help set up, so we’ll have to go early. So, be ready for that. Just meet me here, alright?”

“Yes, of course.” He was going to watch the necromancers set up for a large ritual, that was so cool. What were they going to do? What were they going to raise? “Are you going to be bringing back something large?”

An amused expression crossed Lies’s face, like they were trying to figure out the way to describe the coming night best. “No, not exactly. We’re doing a séance to see how much we can contact the dead when we’re all together. That and séances are really fun in a group and it’s a tradition, so we’re taking bets on who’s going to be possessed this time. It’s going to be great.”

All of the blood drained from Adamantine’s face. “Possessed?”

“Oh, it isn’t dangerous, don’t worry.” Lies waved their hand like a person who got possessed on the regular “Someone always gets chosen as a mouthpiece and it’s just all big fun, most of the local spirits know us. We’re just giving them the yearly update on the land of the living. They like that and it’s a good way to pass messages from the recently departed.”

The way Lies said it made this whole endeavor sound like it was a normal weekend for them, it was just that time of year. Of  _ course _ Adamantine wanted to be a part of that. He had enrolled himself in the most basic of necromancy classes and everything he had learned about séances had only intrigued him more. It was one of the necromantic rituals that had been commonly studied, but not from a necromantic position. Everyone knew how to hold a séance; it was basic knowledge, evidently.

“Adamantine, come on. Let Beck work, you two can talk about ghosts later.” A tug to his arm brought Adamantine back to the present. Dire was leaning on the doorframe, waiting to leave. “I need an extra body for a ritual and you’re here, aren’t you?”

Oh.  _ Oh _ , Dire needed his help. Yes, a thousand times yes.

Nodding, Adamantine said his goodbyes as Dire led him out, away from the necromancy department. Adamantine knew next to nothing about vivimancers, save that their practice was not seen as the most esteemed school of magic. Most thought them meddlers, messing with things beyond their ken, interlopers in the more professional academic disciplines.

Looking at Dire would likely confirm their suspicions. For all his kindness and cheeriness, Dire cut neither a professional nor capable figure. His clothes were in perpetual disarray, his hair even more so. It was like he took time out of his day to mess himself up, turning his sloppiness into an aesthetic choice. Adamantine had quickly gotten used to it, the aversion to wearing shoes, the dislike of anything thicker than a jacket, the refusal to brush his hair when he wasn’t in the bath, but others saw that in a different light.

With a start, Adamantine realized he had been led into the vivimancers’ department, a small hallway allotted to the few mages that practiced here. It was nowhere near as cohesive as the necromancy wing, with their noteboards and aesthetic decorations and names on doors. It was funny how that was, how the necros had decided to be one big group and put up paper ghosts and fake cobwebs to “deaden” up the place. The daily necromancy puns were, in fact, funny.

Instead, there were just last names on office doors, the occasional skin or claws decorating the wood. No one had put anything up in the halls, just electing to exert their aesthetic over the domain of their offices. Dire’s was simple, just his last name and nothing else. It made sense that he spent so much time with the necromancers, even in just the first few minutes, Adamantine felt lonely.

“Is it always this deserted?” He asked, not thinking.

Dire blinked, unlocking his door with a key hung around his neck. “Er, kind of. Most people prefer to be out, so no one really sticks around here unless they have something small they’re doing. There’s a nature preserve out back anyways.”

Opening the door, Dire beckoned Adamantine inside. It was odd to remember that Dire had an office of his own—he never seemed like the type to actually enjoy spending time indoors. Of course, he had a house and all that, probably. All Adamantine meant was that Dire had the energy of a man that spent his time in the woods; it was hard to picture him in an indoor setting to begin with, never mind spending the brunt of his time in one. Surely, he had to have attended schooling, it was just… not a thought that passed Adamantine’s mind when he thought of the man.

His office was both what Adamantine thought Dire would have and nothing at all like he expected. There were books everywhere, for one thing, about anything and everything, though a good chunk were on the habits of wolves and other canines. Teeth and components littered the desk and cabinets, arranged in an order only Dire knew.

Picking up a pack leaning against a wall and tossing a few things in, Dire inclined his head at the door, signaling for the two of them to leave as quickly as they had come. It was funny, how easily Dire had befriended the necros. They were similar circles, life and death, one bleeding naturally into the other. Adamantine had to wonder if there were any papers written about that—collaborations between vivimancers and necromancers. It would surely make for some interesting reading.

Dire led Adamantine through the building as the illusionist thought, exiting into the afternoon sun. The air was warm with the last shreds of summer, just cool enough to be pleasant. It was the kind of weather that Adamantine loved, accommodating for everyone. The two didn’t linger, though, Dire leading the illusion mage through winding streets until they came across what looked like an old growth forest, buried deep in the academic complex.

If he was being honest, Adamantine had no idea this was even near, never mind what it could be used for. A few people walked in and out, dressed in all manner of wear, from animal skins to formal robes. One nodded to Dire as xe walked, arms filled with branches. Was this where the vivimancers conducted their rituals?

Letting himself be led further, the trees felt like they had eyes, watching Adamantine as he walked, as he went about his day. It was unnerving. Very unnerving. Dire didn’t seem to mind at all, moving through the forest like it was his second skin, not stumbling on the undergrowth once. It was like the forest floor yielded to him, acknowledging him as one of its children. For the first time, Adamantine looked at the man with a critical eye, watching him slip through nature like a wolf, not the least bit turned around by all the sameness rising to meet them. If he was being honest, Adamantine couldn’t even begin to guess at how long they had been walking, let alone where they were or how to get back.

Dire stopped as the forest opened up into a large, mossy clearing. The floor had been entirely covered with the stuff, a soft, living carpet. It was like nothing Adamantine had ever seen before, hints of powerful magic dancing about at the edges of his senses. What exactly had he gotten himself into, in this grotto?

“So, um, what are we doing?” Adamantine picked at his sleeve, out of place in the sea of green around him.

Glancing at Adamantine over his shoulder, Dire set his pack down. “A fertility thing. Friend of a friend wanted a couple of conception charms and thought I’d be the best to do it. Nothing too bad, I’d ask Beck to help, usually, but they’re crabby.”

“What do you need me to  _ do _ , though?”

Dire bent down to examine the ground around them, fingertips running along the moss. “Uh, it’s a simple fertility ritual?” He said, like that was explanation enough. “We’re going to fuck in a magic circle.”

“Oh.” Heart leaping into his throat, Adamantine choked on his own nerves.

Dire’s backpedal was immediate “Unless you don’t want to. I thought you knew—I think Vidalia still owes me a favor and I can—”

Adamantine cut him off before he knew what he was saying. “I’ll do it.”

Straightening, Dire nodded, ease slipping into his shoulders. “Right, why don’t you undress, and I’ll set up the circle. It’s easier to do it like this than on an altar, in my opinion. Nothing digging into your back and all.”

An altar. The alternative was fucking on an altar. Okay. Alright. Adamantine could do this. This totally wasn’t a recurring dream he had and was doing his very best to shove those thoughts down every time he saw Dire. Right. Yep. This was just real life instead and he needed to stop blushing because of something that was almost certainly something normal and routine for Dire.

Undress. Adamantine was supposed to be getting undressed right now. Tugging off his boots, Adamantine tried to pretend that he was in his apartment, changing clothes for the shower or something. His pants were next. Was Dire going to think less of him for this? For how eager he was to “help”? His shirt joined the pile, carefully folded. Well, he had mentioned that Lies did this, and they were still close—what if they were dating and hadn’t told Adamantine?

That would be horrible. It would be a nightmare. Lies’s intern had a crush on their boyfriend, he would be terminated on the spot. No one would want to sponsor him, no one was going to work with him and Adamantine was going to be left to fend for himself in a new field, no help, no assistance. Better to worry about that than imagine Lies with Dire, passionately… hugging. For his own sake, Adamantine tried to convince himself that the images flashing into his head were that of a passionate embrace and that he didn’t, in fact, think Lies was very handsome.

Tamping down his blush, Adamantine found Dire making a circle with some kind of black dust, lines stretching across in it a strange pattern. It was a relatively complex circle, one that left an opening in the middle large enough for a person to lay down in. Bronze bowls were placed at strategic points, filled with some kind of liquid. Rote motions placed little tokens in places that would concentrate magic, Dire humming a song he had heard at some point as he did it. How often did he do this that he could do it from memory?

“That should do it.” Dire took a step back, carefully crossing out of the circle to look over it, stalking a loop around the edge. “Adamantine. Socks and underwear too.”

Right. Yes. Nudity. Adamantine was going to get naked for Dire. “Sorry, yes. On it.”

His cheeks were practically glowing, Adamantine could feel it. All of the blood in his body had gone to his face and… somewhere else… and he was going to have to face the music. Turning away politely, Adamantine removed the offending articles of clothing, listening to the rustling behind him. There was the sound of something being slipped on, and, when he turned back around, there was a garment on Dire’s naked pelvis, the rest of his clothes discarded in a rumpled pile beside his other things. Oh.

The article over Dire’s hips was a bunch of black straps, a metal ring over his genitals clearly meant to hold something. Rifling through his pack, Dire glanced up at Adamantine and gave him a once-over, face betraying nothing. It was the most difficult thing in the world not to squirm under that critical gaze, Adamantine’s traitorous cock taking interest in the way its owner was being watched.

“Here,” something was tossed at him from Dire’s pack as the man pawed through it, “why don’t you go open yourself up.”

“Why don’t I what now?” His nerves betrayed Adamantine as he caught what looked like a vial of oil. It was obvious how much he had failed as a mage if he didn’t understand a simple command.

Dire gave him a confused look. “You know, make sure you’re properly stretched out. I have some gloves, don’t worry.”

Biting his lip, Adamantine let his gaze fall to his feet. “I… um…”

“You’ve never done anything like this before?” It wasn’t terrifying when Dire pulled out what looked like a phallus made out of jade. Not terrifying at all.

As put together as possible, Adamantine tried again. “I—no, I haven’t. I’m sorry.”

“Then why don’t I take care of it.” The phallus was slipped into that metal ring and a piece of latex covered it. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“I do.” That answer was too fast. “I love to learn.” Too much eye contact, Adamantine.

With a chuckle, Dire gestured for Adamantine to lie down. “So, here’s what going to happen: I’ll finger you open and then we’ll fuck in the circle. You can be on top if you want, I don’t mind, it’s easier to control everything like that, or I can be on top. I know what I’m doing either way so it isn’t an issue.”

“You can be on top, I don’t mind. Thank you.” Adamantine mumbled into his chest as he sat down on the soft moss, trying to get comfortable with the feeling of flora on his bare skin.

Humming an old tune, Dire crossed over to him, pulling on a pair of gloves and maneuvering Adamantine into a better position with strong hands. Adamantine’s skin felt like it was on fire from that touch. His new desired position only added to the embarrassment flooding his veins, face down in the moss and his ass in the air. A flush singed his ears as his cock took more interest, waking up properly to the events transpiring.

“This is going to feel a bit weird, but just relax, okay?” Dire’s voice sounded from above him, a calm, serene croon. “I’ll make it feel good for you.”

For him. Adamantine liked the sound of that. “Okay.”

There was the sound of a bottle being uncorked, and it made a shiver run down Adamantine’s spine. After a brief pause, he felt a finger probing at his entrance, slick with warm oil. Burying his face in his arms, Adamantine let out a whimper, struggling not to move. As it circled around the tight ring of muscle, he remembered to relax, biting his lip at how nice, if foreign, it felt.

Pressure at his entrance marked the finger slipping in, slowly, an odd feeling that Adamantine eased into. Dire wasn’t going to hurt him, not unless he asked him to. That digit began to slide in and out of him, Adamantine loosening up as Dire rested his free hand on his hip, a warm weight rubbing pleasant circles into the muscles of his back. This wasn’t too bad, not too bad at all, if Adamantine ignored how much his body was waking up to Dire’s touch, eager and ready to reenact several dreams he hadn’t been able to shake.

“Relax, just relax.” The vivimancer’s voice was soft above him, calming. So easy to get lost in. “You’re doing a great job.”

The praise went right to Adamantine’s dick, need burning low between his legs. “T-thank you?” What is it one said in this situation?

Dire simply laughed at that, hot breath on Adamantine’s skin the only warning he had before the man placed a kiss to the small of his back. “Such a great job for me.”

Using praise as a distraction, Dire added a second finger, Adamantine’s throat giving a high whine at the stretch. It didn’t hurt, not too much, it just felt… different. They proceeded like that, Dire with his slow, careful movements, stroking Adamantine’s body and teasing sensitive skin, as Adamantine tried to ignore just how much his body wanted him to roll over and hump Dire’s leg until he came all over both of them.

“Dire?” There was more of a tremor in Adamantine’s voice than he would have liked, but it was fine.

“Yes, Adamantine?”

Biting his lip, the illusion mage tamped down thoughts of how nicely Dire said his name. “Will this be much longer?”

“Do you not like it?” Concern tinged the man’s words.

Adamantine pushed his face further into the moss, trying to drown himself in it. “I-I do, I just… wanted to know if it would be much longer.”

“Well…” A third finger was added and Adamantine’s leg twitched at how full he felt. “I could make it a bit more exciting, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I’ll be alright.”

There was a quiet lapse in conversation as Dire kept fingering him open.

Twisting to try and get a look at Dire, Adamantine felt that strong hand hold him still. “Di—a-ah—”

Adamantine’s words knotted into a broken moan as those fingers brushed against a spot inside him that made it feel like sparks of pleasure were running down Adamantine’s spine. Whimpering and whining into the moss as Dire did it again and again, Adamantine tried to thrust his hips back, desperate for more. His cock ached, drooling a bit of precum onto the mossy floor beneath him, standing to attention and eager for any meager hint of friction.

“Is that good?” He could hear the smirk in Dire’s voice. “Almost there; you’re doing  _ so _ good.”

Adamantine couldn’t get his mouth to make words, so he just groaned, letting his blond hair fall to cover his face, to cover the mild shame he felt at losing control of himself so quickly. This was far better than anything he had ever done in his dreams, better than those pesky temptations that danced at the corners of his mind.

All too soon, though, those fingers were withdrawn, the gloves discarded, the steadying hand left his hip. Adamantine’s body struggled to remember how to balance himself, heart beating a mile a minute in his ears. So, this is what Dire’s magic looked like. Or, at least, part of his magic. Is this what Lies did with him, why the two of them were so close? There were a million thoughts running through Adamantine’s head and no answers to placate them. Was it too late to pick up a vivimancy minor?

“Come on, let’s get on with the ritual, right?” There was a laugh in Dire’s voice, the man standing over Adamantine with a grin. “Having a nice time?”

“Uh-huh.” Adamantine said dumbly as he looked up, meeting clever green eyes with his own dark blue.

With clumsy motions, Adamantine got up and faced his next challenge: getting into the center of the magic circle without disturbing any of the lines. Dire watched with hawk-like focus as Adamantine tiptoed into the middle, dancing around the powder and carefully laying down in the space allotted. The forest canopy was thick above him, just a few patches of sky visible through the leaves. It was like it was evening, the way it blocked out the light.

Dire gripped the jade phallus, reciting the words to a spell. Yellow lines lit up at the base and he stroked it like it was attached to him, chewing on his bottom lip as he sighed. Ah. Adamantine had heard some mages his age talking about these, dildos that could be enchanted to act as a penis, sensation and all. He had never had one used on him before, but Adamantine had never had anything used on him before. At least this would have some arcane significance.

Cupping his hands out in front of him, Dire turned his face up to the sky, clearly casting. Instead of paying attention, Adamantine let his eyes rove across Dire’s body, taking in the healed surgery scars on his chest. Good for him. Most vivimancers were against elective surgeries, but Dire had thrown away tradition a long time ago. He seemed much happier like this anyway.

From between the man’s fingers, Adamantine could see a light bubbling up, golden and faint. As Dire tipped his hands forward, it caught on the lines, the black powder igniting into fiery light and the oil-filled bowls bursting into pale flames. The tokens, placed in intersections of the powder, were engulfed in that same arcane, yellow fire.

Dire’s face split into a smile as he spread more lubricant onto his cock, striding into the center of the circle with a confidence Adamantine could only aspire to have. The flames didn’t burn him as they licked at his thighs, at his feet. Careful, gentle hands spread Adamantine’s legs as Dire situated himself between them.

“Are you ready?”

Adamantine nodded, ignoring the way the rational part of his mind insisted that someone could walk by and see them at any moment. “Yes, please.”

Carefully, Dire lined himself up and pushed in, slowly, insistently. Groaning, Adamantine felt his thighs twitch as Dire bottomed out, the illusionist absolutely filled to the brim. The jade of his cock was far less flexible than his fingers, demanding and unyielding, commanding Adamantine’s full attention. He understood now why some people did this, he understood very much.

“You’re doing great, ‘Dam.” Dire’s hands held Adamantine still as he gasped, looping his arms around Dire’s neck. “Just like that, you’re being so good for me.”

Any rational thought spilled out of Adamantine’s head like water onto concrete. There was precum slowly dripping down his ignored cock as Dire started moving in earnest, doing unspeakable things to the illusion mage’s body. Oh, he certainly wasn’t going to be speaking of it for a little while, considering how each thrust knocked more and more moans loose from Adamantine’s lungs, slowly growing in volume until Adamantine was breathlessly pleading for Dire, begging.

Lips graced Adamantine’s neck as Dire bent to kiss at the sensitive skin there, nibbling and sucking. Adamantine let his fingers dig into Dire’s back, holding on like his life depended on it. It probably did. How was he expected to survive this, survive the heat building in his core, the tension in his pelvis?

And then, Dire hit that perfect spot inside him, and Adamantine screamed like he was being murdered. If anything, that was what was happening. He was going to feel ashamed over that later, but it was fine. It wasn’t his problem. That was a memory for the Adamantine of the future to shove his face into his pillow over.

Right now, though, Adamantine was overwhelmed with all sorts of new feelings, the only outlet of which was his mouth. Who cared what he sounded like? This was for a ritual and Dire was just so handsome and perfect and strong and nice and… and… and it was hard to think with his cock buried inside Adamantine’s ass, but Dire was a bunch of other nice things too.

As he fucked into him, Dire muttered praises into his ear, telling him what a good mage he was, how good he was being for Dire, how wonderful his ass felt, how pretty his voice was. Adamantine was going to cum from that alone, from those saccharine words fluttering about in his mind, straight from Dire’s mouth to his dick. Did he know what he was doing to him? How quickly he was bringing Adamantine to the edge? He had Dire fever and the prognosis was terminal.

Dire was panting too, close to his own orgasm as he pulled back, Adamantine’s hands chasing him. Palms found strong biceps, muscled pectorals under tanned skin and soft body hair. Well, that proved it: Dire was perfection incarnate. No one could have soft skin  _ and _ soft body hair. It was crystal clear evidence that Dire was the most perfect man in the world, and nothing was going to dissuade Adamantine of that. The man had to be a god or something.

“I—I’m—” It was rather difficult to force words out of his mouth in anything more coherent than random syllables, but Adamantine was trying his damned hardest. “Please—please Dire. I need you.”

Pressing a kiss to Adamantine’s cheek, Dire stroked the illusionist’s hair. “Part of the spell. You can’t cum until I do.”

What kind of dumb spell rule was that? Adamantine wanted to cum, and he wanted to cum now. He was ready to throw a fit about it like he was some kind of middle-aged woman being denied a sale at a chain store when Dire’s thrusts started to get sloppy, his touches less focused. Calloused fingers grazed Adamantine’s nipples, gently pinching the sensitive skin and making him buck on Dire’s cock, reveling in the feeling of so much attention lavished onto him.

Like thunder from the clouds, Dire hit deep inside him once, twice before the two of them tumbled over the edge, flames growing high as Adamantine wailed, painting their stomachs with stripes of white. His back arched as his orgasm ripped through him, chest heaving for breath as the world spun around him, anchored down by the vivimancer atop him. The man was bent over him, riding out his orgasm with shallow thrusts that rocked little tingles of pleasure deep inside Adamantine.

As he stilled, the two of them lay there, catching their breath, the clouds rolling over the blue of the sky. Too soon, Dire pulled out of him with a wince, sitting up. Adamantine’s cum had smeared, a white splatter on the larger man’s stomach. It was a sight Adamantine was never going to forget, no matter what. His limbs felt loose and heavy, fucked out in a way he had never expected to be. This was… nice. It was very nice.

“Are you alright?” Dire asked as the fires slowly burned out around them, leaving scorch marks in the moss.

Clumsily, Adamantine nodded, unable to feel ashamed about anything. “Thank you.”

“No, thank  _ you _ for helping me with this, you’ve been really helpful.” Dire’s hands undid straps and buckles without thinking, dumping the offending article of clothing, phallus and all, on the ground. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again sometime, minus the public magic, that is.”

“Uh-huh.” Adamantine said, like the eloquent illusionist he was.

Careful hands gently pulled Adamantine’s legs apart and a wipe of something cold and slightly numbing pressed to his ass. Whimpering, Adamantine’s attempts at squirming away were met with resistance as Dire held his hips in place, unwilling to let this go undone. It was too much stimulation on his oversensitive areas. Adamantine would like to retract his previous statement about attention. He was no longer an attention whore.

“Hold still.” It was a command and the mage’s hips instantly stilled. “This helps, at least let me clean you up.”

He did, allowing Dire to have his way with him. His stomach was wiped clean too, along with Dire’s own. Fixing his eyes onto the remnants of oil burning in a bronze bowl by his head, Adamantine resisted the urge to drift off under Dire’s ministrations, resisted the urge to tell him exactly what he thought of him. Professions of love weren’t the best thing to hear after ritually fucking someone’s brains out. Adamantine might not know much, but he did know that.


End file.
